


Setting Rooms on Fire, and Other Ways to Capture Kuroo Tetsurou's Heart

by clxude



Series: anima vinculum [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, It's the longest thing I've ever written, M/M, Making Out, i'm really proud of this, kenma is a sugar muffin, kuroo is a bad ass hugger, very little sin i'm letting everyone down, which is cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma’s past haunts him every moment since he’s been crowned fire lord. Luckily, a certain guard will always be there to keep him grounded.</p><p>/no prior knowledge of avatar is required/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting Rooms on Fire, and Other Ways to Capture Kuroo Tetsurou's Heart

This one shot is based on the amazing art by [Quenma](http://quenma.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, which you can view [here.](http://leopardraws.tumblr.com/post/137767487735/au-where-kenma-doesnt-want-but-has-2-become-the)

_"au where kenma doesnt want but has 2 become the new firelord bc his father died and kuroo who’s a captain or something is super gay 4 him"_

 

“Kozume-sama, it’s time to prepare for the funeral.”

He didn’t react.

Sun light shone through his window as a servant ripped open the bamboo blinds.

“Kozume-sama, your people will be waiting soon.” Kiyoko’s voice was soft, but Kenma flinched anyway as the light hit his face and the golden sunshine blinded him.

He didn’t understand how the sun could stand to burn so brilliantly when Kenma’s world, once burning hot and full of blue fire, was now cast in shades of gray. It didn’t feel real yet. His father _couldn’t_ be dead, Kenma _couldn’t_ be the next firelord, he _couldn’t_ rule a country this massive and powerful alone.

He swallowed back the cry that threatened to choke him before wiping away his tears with the edge of his robe. The delicate silk cooled his flush cheeks. He turned around to face the servant.

Kiyoko was young, most likely even younger than him. Her black hair was pulled back in a high bun accented with a cherry blossom. She smiled at him, but it didn’t do much to hid her glossy eyes, or the puffiness under them.

“It’s okay, Kozume-sama, to cry. We - the servants, that is - won’t think any less of you. You’ll be a great leader; I would never doubt you for a second.”

He started to open his mouth, to thank her, maybe, or to say, _no, I’ll never be enough, please don’t trust me,_ but she quickly bowed her head, cheeks flaming.

Her words came out as a rushed stream. “I’m so sorry, Kozume-sama. I was out of line.”

She stayed like that for what seemed an impossibly long time. Kenma didn’t know what to say. He had never liked being around the servants. Being near them made him uncomfortable; they were constantly bowing and calling him _‘Kozume-sama’,_ a name he couldn’t stand. From far away, hidden in the shadows behind a column where no one could see him, he could see how they all looked so happy, laughing and joking as they carried stacks of linen across the royal palace. Together, they were no longer mannequins and marionette, but rather people he deeply envied.

“It’s fine,” he whispers, because his words are always too loud or too quiet, but she stops bowing and tilts her head like a cat.

“Are you ready to get dressed, Kozume-sama?” She’s back to the soft tone, like the kind you use when approaching a day old fawn.

He nods as she takes a step towards his wardrobe.

She talks more as she pulls out under garments, red silk robes and armor, but Kenma can’t focus on the words. He stares at the pale cherry blossom pattern rug as she asks him to raise his arms so she can pull off his silk sleep shirt. He reminds himself to breath as she begins dressing him, to keep breathing as the steel breast plate hugs his chest. He feels like he’s suffocating; the metal is weighing him down and strangling him. But he breaths through it. He will always breath through it.

It’s moments like this when he misses his childhood. Back then, he could run around and get mud on his face and rip his cotton play suit and never talk to anyone. He was the only heir; no one would touch him as long as he showed for lessons.

But who was too force him now? Only his father was able to get close enough, or his mother when she was still alive, but now-

But now, he was all alone.

…

Once she finished dressing him and pulling his hair into a high bun, she left him alone. It was nice, Kenma thought, to be surround by the quiet. The last two days had been anything but. With the Firelord’s sudden death, no one wanted the heir to be unattended.  He hated it, despised the attention. His tutor suggested practicing his breathing exercises to calm his nerves, but his hands were shaking so much and his thoughts were so scattered he couldn’t light a single candle, even if he had a piece of flint.

…

The knock at the door made him shatter a water pitcher. He stared at the ground, watching the water stain spread over the cherry carpet, a halo of pottery shards surrounding him.

_Mother would scream, if she saw. ‘Watch out, Kenma, dear. Don’t hurt yourself on the edges!’_

He wiggled his toes in his slippers. They were a bit wet and cold, but not too badly. The knocking grows more insistent then, a voice echoing in the wall way.

It lay broken on the ground, and the sight made something shatter inside him.

“Kozume-sama? Are you okay?” But Kenma can’t answer, can’t make a word leave his lips.

_I promise, mother._

His slippers are growing damper by the second, the color darkening, and hot tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Flames lick at his fingertips, heating his hands for the first time since he heard the news. The flames flicker higher, and the scent of silk blackening fills the air. The broken water jug cracks further in the heat, and soon, Kenma’s entire body is a raging inferno with no end in sight.

Twisted flames consume him and he can’t feel a thing. His vision is all blue and red and gold and broken pitchers painted with pictured of chrysanthemums.

The ringing in his ears isn’t loud enough to block out the sound of the door opening, or the voices of servants screaming for water before his flames were finally snuffed out.

He shuddered as his body was doused in icy water, drenching him to the bone. His flames puttered out, leaving his clothes black and smoking. He was breathing hard, and the pot was just ash on the floor.

He could hear Kiyoko crying in the hall, and he imagined that her eyes were glossier than before.

“Kozume-sama, are you okay?” It was a guard speaking, gently touching his arms to check for burns. He was slow and methodical about it, constantly checking to see if Kenma was fine with the sudden contact.

Kenma liked it, even though he was being treated like a china doll, because at least the guard was not acting like he’s an unobtainable deity hovering up in the sky like most of the servants. The guard was touching him, and his cold hands felt like _heaven_ against his burning skin.

Kenma couldn't make out most of his face because it was hidden under his helmet, but his smile was kind and his eyes were so _bright_.

“Kozume-sama, please answer,” he pleaded, and his voice came out a bit whiny and Kenma found it a bit cute.

“’m fine,” He didn't know if the words have any sound to them at all, or if his lips just moved for a moment. Kenma assumed they’re sufficient enough, as the guard soon resumed talking.

“We need to get you ready again soon, but there’s no need to go out if you’re not ready, Kozume-sama.” His voice was just was soft as the servant from before, but it’s deeper than the ocean and not like a lark.

“Okay,” This word was a bit louder than the previous, more confident and less shaky. The guard’s hands felt a bit more confident now as well as he prodded Kenma’s skin.

“I have to check for blisters and popped blood vessels, and then once we get you changed, you’ll be good as new, Kozume-sama.” He held Kenma’s face between his hands, peering into his golden eyes. “I don’t see any obvious injuries right now, but you should probably have a healer come by to be certain. My battle field medic training is pretty good, but it’s nothing compared to one of the healers in Capital City.” He joked, laughing slightly.

Kenma smiled, and for once it doesn’t feel forced.

“It’s good to see you smile,” the guard said, and Kenma liked the way he talks. It’s all unapologetic and lacking formalities, the way Kenma would imagine friends would talk. It was a little rough around the edges, and frankly, quite comforting.

“Ah, Kozume-sama,” the guard cleared his throat. “Can you take off your armor? It’s just you’ll continue to retain heat, and with how hot you were burning - Or I could get the servant that helps you normally? You just need to change.” He wrinkled his nose. “And, my apologies, Kozume-sama, but burnt silk doesn’t smell good on anyone.”

_Oh._

It feels different to be asked to change by one of the guards. Kenma knew he shouldn’t think anything of it. He just needed to change out of something with significantly less ash and smoldering holes. He didn’t mind the heat, but the guard was right — staying in the armor for too long could cause serious complications.

“Ah, it’s fine. You’re fine.” Kenma blushed. “I mean, you can help me. If you want, of course.”

The guard laughed. “I know what you meant, Kozume-sama. Permission to remove my helmet?”

“Permission granted?” While it was awkward and Kenma had no idea what to say most of the time, he didn’t mind talking to the guard.

“Thank you, Kozume-sama,” The guard said as he removed his helmet and shook out his spiky black hair. “They get seriously hot and uncomfortable after a while, to tell you the truth.”

“I guess... I might have to change that at some point, for you.” Kenma couldn’t tell you why he said it, but the guard’s laugh, _his laugh,_ made it completely worth it.

“I would appreciate that greatly, Kozume- “

“You don’t have to call me that.” Kenma racked his head, trying to find the right words. “It’s fine with me, if you were to just call me Kenma.”

“My name is Kuroo,” He smiled. “Now, if we can get you changed?”

Kenma nodded, ducking his head to hide his blush as his fingers struggled to unclasp his breast plate. He had never done it on his own before, hadn’t even ever picked it up.

“Do you need help, Kenma?” And when Kuroo said his name, Kenma melted. It fell of his tongue like snow, soft and pure. Kenma was blushing even more as the seconds went by, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could blame the fire that had surrounded him thirty minutes prior.

“Y-yes.” And Kuroo’s hands were back on him, gently pulling apart clasp after clasp until he lifted the metal of Kenma’s shoulders.

“That should help some, Kenma.” Kuroo took and step back, studying Kenma. “We should get you something else to wear.”

Kuroo dragged Kenma over to his wardrobe and began to throw garments at him, sighing as he compared colors and styles.

“You have so many options, and yet nothing matches.” He shook his head sadly and chuckled. “I don’t think you should wear any heavy armor, especially with how hot your skin still is. And, I doubt anyone will attempt to harm you.”

“Then what should I wear?”

“How about this?” Kuroo held up a red and gold robe, it’s matching light armor resting on top. “I think it would look good, and it's light enough that it wouldn't contain too much heat.”

Kenma nodded, before he started to strip from his pervious - now destroyed - outfit. Kuroo occasionally stopped him to check for more burns and blisters, but was satisfied when he found none. His hands brushed over Kenma’s collarbones and hips, sending electric shocks through his body. The hands were warm and rough with years of training, but Kenma didn’t mind.

Once he finished getting dressed, Kuroo shoved him in a chair to fix his hair. He combed it with his fingers, tailing against Kenma’s scalp and forcing him to hold back a sigh. In Kenma’s opinion, he finished all too quickly with placing the golden flame-shaped head piece snug against Kenma’s bun.

“There you go, Kenma. All set to see the Fire Nation.” He takes a step back. “Come on, Fire Lord Kozume.”

…

As Kenma stood in front of thousands of people, watching his father’s body be raised to the gold and silver pyre, it reminded him of a different time.

_“Stop crying, Kenma. It’s time to say goodbye to Mommy. She wouldn’t want you to cry, would she, Kenma?” His father held him as they walked to the balcony._

_Except, Kenma couldn’t stop crying into his father’s neck. His body convolved with each sob. His throat was horse, completely wrecked by the past two days. And as the pyre lit and each citizen let go of their white paper lantern, even the Firelord couldn’t hold back his own tears._

_Father and son, leader and nation. They all cried together as she burned to nothingness. As the sun set, casting the sky in blood, the citizens left. The Royal Family was alone to morn, keeping the flames lit until sun rise._

…

Kenma raised his hand, a small flame tickling his palm. He was in control; he had to be in control.

The pyre caught. The flames reflected off the pyre like a second sun.

There is an end to all things. The pyre was just one of many.

…

Of all the places in the place ground, Kenma felt most comfortable in Agni Kai Chamber. He would sit alone in the near darkness, his fire jumping from candle to candle. It was tranquil and quiet, and seemingly the only place the young Firelord had left as a hiding space.

At least, he did until the guard found him.

“Kenma? Planning on challenging someone?”

Kenma exhaled, and all the candled flickered out as one.

“Come on, Kenma. I can’t see you in the dark.” When Kenma didn’t respond, he sighed heavily. Kenma could hear Kuroo walking around, his leather and metal armor scarping softly in the silence. “Fine. I’ll just have to do all the work.”

Kenma didn’t flinch as every candle began to burn the instant Kuroo stopped talking.

Kuroo walked over to where Kenma was sitting and draped his arms over Kenma’s shoulders. “Now isn’t that better?”

Kenma sighed. “I guess. It’s not as quiet.”

“You would you rather I leave?”

“No, it’s fine. I like the sound of your voice.”

Kuroo hugged Kenma closer, and one by one the candles blinked out. Soon enough, it was nothing but darkness and the sound of their breathing.

“Kuroo?”

“Hmm? What is it, my little Firelord? I thought you preferred silence?” His word tickled Kenma’s ears, and he was thankful for the lack of lighting that hid his violent blush.

“You were one of my father’s personal guards, right?”

“For the past three years, yes.”

“Did he...did he ever talk about me?” Kenma didn’t know why he was asking this. In the years since his mother’s death, Kenma had grown isolated from everyone, even his dear father. And while he still loved him, talking to him just always felt so hard sometimes. Words scared him. People can read into them so many different ways; Kenma felt as if he couldn’t even control his own words anymore.

“All the time. He was so, so proud of you.” Kuroo smiled against Kenma’s neck. “Even now, he’s proud of you. While you don’t want to be the firelord right now, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.

“I think you’ll be the best firelord.”

“Thank you, Kuroo.” Kenma sighed as Kuroo nuzzled his neck. “For everything.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I never would have considered doing anything differently.”

…

Kenma’s room was washed in faded pinks and reds. He watched the sun set; the garden below fills with gray. He breathed shakily. The wood of the balcony rail cut into his palms. Black sear marks bloomed under his hands.

Kenma, even when he was the crown prince, had hated council meetings. Even now, few people took him and his pet guard seriously.

_Pet guard._

He hated the way his advisors looked at Kuroo, his only true friend. They told him constantly to not befriend the staff, but Kenma would never listen. He would never leave Kuroo behind. Kuroo knew his place as captain of the royal guard, but he also knew his place as Kenma’s friend. Kenma was eternally grateful for that.

Ever since they had officially met, Kuroo had taken care of young Firelord. Whether it was when he was too tired to remember to eat or patching up his wounds after training, Kuroo was there.

And just maybe in the few months that had passed, Kenma had fallen in love.

He wondered how his father would have laughed if had known his son’s heart pounded every time he saw the raven-haired guard. It would not have surprised him, Kenma decided, not after all the times His had seen Kenma kissing dukes’ sons in abandoned hallways and the beaches of Ember Island. But, it would come as a shock how fiercely Kenma was willing to protect his knight.

Kenma had always been careless with his things. However, Kuroo was someone he wasn’t ready to loose. Marriage alliances be damned, as long as he could watch Kuroo Tetsurou a little longer.

…

“Can the little firelord not hit me any harder?”

Kenma was pissed. Instead of training with his normal sparring partner, Hinata, he was stuck training with Kuroo. And while it had been fun and enjoyable for the first half of the session, it wasn’t nearly as fun when Kuroo was pressing Kenma’s wrists into the mat while straddling Kenma, whispering taunts in his ear.

“Come on,” the letters dragged out. “Where’s the boy who almost burn himself out over a vase? He’s stronger than this.”

Kenma didn’t mind the insults; he knew they were true, even though Kuroo was only joking. Kenma never tried when it came to sparring. He never pushed himself. Hinata had yelled at him constantly for it, because _‘Even though it’s training, what’s the point if you just lay there and take it?”_

“Why don’t you try, Kenma?” Kuroo’s breath tickled Kenma’s cheek. “I know you’re good at this, now you just need to prove it.”

Kenma did try, even if was only once. ‘ _You will never be good enough. It’s a shame you’re the only heir.’_

All these years later, he didn’t remember who had said it. But even now, they still haunted him.

“I... I can’t do it.”

“Why not, Kenma? What do you need to prove to anyone?”

_Because no one will ever take me seriously again. Because everyone is already waiting for me to die so they’ll have a competent firelord again. Because I set my room on fire every time something doesn’t work out. Because I don’t want to hurt you._

“You know what to.”

Kuroo’s words brought him back to the surface, but he still didn’t move. He couldn’t move, not when there was the possibility of Kuroo being hurt.

“I can’t, Kuroo.” He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to remain calm and to keep his breathing steady. “I can’t hurt you.”

When Kuroo didn’t reply, he opened his eyes. The sun was bright at first, so it took some time for him to adjust enough to make out Kuroo’s expression. His mouth was drawn out in a gasp, shock written out all over his features. He sat up, putting less of his weight on Kenma’s stomach and let go of his wrists.

“How would you _hurt_ me? I mean, I doubt you even could. I don’t mean to brag, but I didn’t become head of the Firelord’s Royal Guard by being a mediocre bender.”

“I know that but - “

“Are you still worried about when you almost burned out your entire room? Or the burn marks on your balcony? Because, surprisingly enough, Kenma, I’m better at defense and chi blocking than your average piece of wood.” Kuroo took a deep breath, his hands tracing over Kenma’s pink cheeks. “I will be able to stop you, if I need to.”

Kenma swallowed hard. He clenched his hands as he stared up at Kuroo.

“Okay,”

…

Kenma couldn’t stand the silence that accompanied council meetings. He knew what he should say, knew when to say it, knew who would agree and who would shut down his idea with all the power they had.

He knew none of his advisors took him seriously yet, and not talking only backed them up more. But he couldn’t make the words come out. The war room was dark and imposing, and he was barely more than a child.

“What do you suggest, Firelord Kozume-sama?” Kenma’s head jerked up. Everyone in the war council stared back him, waiting for his response.

“I... agree with Bokuto-san.” And then Kenma prayed with all he fucking had that Koutarou Bokuto had talked about something more than how _his_ region was prospering the shit out of the Fire Nation.

“Yes,” Keiji Akaashi nodded. “Surprisingly enough, Bokuto-san has managed to say something relevant and not about my ass.”

Bokuto blushed, mumbling something about _Keiji_ , and _even Komi-san isn’t this mean to me._

“If we follow Bokuto-san’s suggestion, we will need to take the auxiliary troops from...”

Kenma wished Kuroo was there beside him.

…

“How did the meeting go?” Kenma didn’t respond as he continued to strip out of his armor, leaving himself in a light pink robe, before settling in a chair.

“Kenma?” Kenma jumped as he felt Kuroo wrap his arms around Kenma’s shoulders.

“What?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No...” Kenma sighed leaning into Kuroo’s touch. His armor felt cool through Kenma’s robe, the helmet heavy as it rested on his shoulder. The metal bit into his shoulder. “It’s just that, the council still doesn’t trust me with anything. They never will.”

And there was so much more to it, things that filled Kenma’s that could never be allowed to escape. His skin tingled under Kuroo’s gloved finger tips, his heartrate sped as Kuroo held him close. It couldn’t be allowed, their relationship. At least, not the one Kenma desired.

“I’m not my father.” He amended, hoping those words would bring the conversation to a close.

“The only one asking you to be, is you.” Kuroo’s words were punctuated with a kiss on the back of Kenma’s neck. It soft and warm, just a feather’s brush on his skin before Kuroo pulled away. “You’ll be- “

“Why did you do that?” Kenma asked. His knuckles were white as ice where he gripped the chair underneath him. He could feel a trace of Kuroo’s lips on his skin, a ghost full of warmth the barest mentions of compassion.

In an instant, Kuroo’s arms where gone from his neck. Kenma turned in his chair to see Kuroo bowing before him.

“I apologize, Kozume-sama.” His voice was low, reverberating slightly inside his helmet. “I have over stepped your boundaries. Please, forgive me, Kozume-sama.”

Kenma opened his mouth, but he couldn’t make the words come back. It reminded him of the day of his father’s funeral, when the maid tried to cheer him up. Everyone’s behavior seemed pointless now. Why try to cheer him up, when the council, _his advisors,_ were constantly trying to tear him down?

“It’s - it’s fine.” He clinched his fist to keep his flames at bay. He couldn’t let himself be consumed now, not when he could hurt Kuroo. “You’re fine.”

“Thank you, Kozume-sama.” Kuroo stood, before turning and began to walk towards the door. “I will take my leave now, Kozume-sama. Please send for me if you are in need of any assistance.” His words sounded like ice, and they cut Kenma’s skin just as easily.

“Wait...” he whispered, but it was already too late.

…

Kuroo avoided Kenma after that. A new guard, Haiba Lev, and maid were assigned to him, but Kenma barely noticed. He submerged himself in winning the council’s favor. It was hard for him, and he hated every second of talking to them and listening to reports on how the Date Tech region was fairing, but he forced himself to. He had to become someone his father would be proud to call his son.

The days moved slowly, and time only seemed to pass when Kenma as flashes of Kuroo in the many halls of the palace.

“Kozume-sama?”

Kenma looked at Hinata. The training courtyard was empty besides them.

“Yes?” He didn’t want to be there. While he enjoyed Hinata’s company, it was taxing. He wanted Kuroo to be by his side again.

“I don’t mean to over step, but you seem... off today.” His voice was quizzical, as if he was truly curious and not just a polite servant looking after his Firelord.

“It’s nothing,” _Gods, it’s so much more than that. It’s everything and it’s consuming me like a wildfire and I haven’t been able to breath for years._

“Please, Kozume-sama,” Hinata begged. “I want to help. Please.”

“Is Kuroo-san your captain, Hinata-chan?” _I just want to see him._

“Yes? Why, if I may ask, Kozume-sama?” 

_Because I love him and he thinks I hate him._

“Tell him... tell him I’m not mad, and I would, if the opportunity were to present itself, like to explain something.” _I love you, Kuroo. Please listen to me for a reason bigger than just being my subordinate._

“Of course, Kozume-sama. It would be my pleasure.”

…

Kenma couldn’t breathe. The flames consumed him as the stood in the Agni Kai ring, flickering up the metal columns and dancing around his feet. He tilted back his head and stared at the intricate ceiling as flames filled the room. He was drowning in them. He didn’t mind, if it meant no one would hate him anymore. He didn’t mind, if it meant the pain of _Kuroo_ hating him was gone forever.

…

“Kenma?” Someone shook his arm. “Kenma, it’s time to put out the flames; can you do that for me? Kenma?”

He opened his eyes and smiled at the upside down face above him. “Kuroo.”

“Come on, little firelord, put them out.” Kuroo’s hands felt nice against his cheeks. “Can’t have you burning yourself to the brink again, can we?”

“Kuroo,” He sighed the name; it fell off his lips like a prayer. “Kuroo, Kuroo, Kuroo.”

“I’m right here, Kenma.” Kuroo pulled him up and into his arms before standing and walking around the last remaining islands of fire. “I’m not leaving you again.”

…

When Kenma woke up again, he was in an unfamiliar room. It was small and cramped, piled high with books and swords and armor. He shifted around, blinking his eyes in the pale candle light.

“Kenma? You up?” Kuroo sat at the edge of the bed, another book in his lap, and watched Kenma. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” he pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling a scent that was so uniquely _Kuroo._ “I’m sorry about before."

“Why? I’m the one who was wrong. I should have realized that I was impeding in on something I shouldn’t have and - “

“Shut up, Kuroo.” His words were finally loud enough for someone to stop talking over him; or maybe someone finally cared to listen. “Just - listen to me.”

“What?”

“I said to shut up.” Kenma took a deep breath, his eyes anywhere but the man sitting at the foot of the bed. “I said it was fine. That meant... that I enjoyed it.”

“Oh,” Kuroo cocked his head. “So does that mean you wouldn’t mind if I did it again?”

Kenma blushed into the pillow, before letting out a quiet _‘no’_.

“Hmm?” Kuroo scooted to his end of the bed. “I can’t hear you."

“I said no,” Kenma said, barely any louder than the first time.

“Kenmaaa,” his hand found Kenma’s under the sheets, and his thumb began to rub the top of Kenma’s hand. “I can’t hear you, my little Firelord.”

Kenma couldn’t say it. He couldn’t control his words. Once they left his mouth, they were no longer his own. But actions, they would forever belong to him.

The blankets fell to the ground as he sprung forward. Kuroo’s hair felt soft under his fingertips, his lips warm against Kenma’s. The kiss was soft and slow, barely a moment before Kenma pulled back.

“That’s what I said, Kuroo.”

“Sorry, I still didn’t quite catch that,” He laughed, his lips brushing against Kenma’s cheek.

Kenma blushed harder, causing his face to pinch up. With a mumbled _‘I hate you’_ he pressed another kiss to Kuroo’s mouth. It was rougher this time. Kenma’s hands slid into Kuroo’s hair as Kuroo’s hands gripped Kenma’s jaw. Kuroo sighed into the kiss, his mouth opening so his tongue could brush the other’s lips.

Kuroo pulled away first and tried to take out Kenma’s flame head piece. “Why is this so difficult?” He groaned. “I wouldn’t be able to put with this on a regular basis.”

He struggled a bit longer before Kenma knocked his hands away and did it for him. He shook out his top-knot before placing the gold and steel headpiece on a side table. In an instant, Kuroo’s hands were back in his hair, tugging it lightly as Kenma’s loud sighs slipped out of his mouth. Kuroo’s mouth was warm against his own, hot and sweet with the aftertaste of green tea. Kenma’s tongue flicked against the roof of Kuroo’s mouth, and the resulting moan sent electricity shooting through him.

“I missed you,” Kuroo said as he pressed a kiss underneath Kenma’s ear. Kuroo’s assault continued downwards, a trail of kisses scattered along his neck. Kenma’s back arched up over the bed when Kuroo sucked a bruise on his collarbone. “I missed hearing your voice. It’s so pretty, all soft and airy.”

Kenma whined as Kuroo pressed another kiss to his collarbone, before yanking Kuroo’s head back up and pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. He fell back into the bed, taking Kuroo with him.

They were both breathing hard when they broke apart. Bruises littered Kenma’s neck, his lips stained cherry red. Kuroo rolled off of him, propping himself up on his elbow to smile down at younger boy.

“I didn’t realize my little Firelord was able to kiss like that,” And how Kenma had _missed_ Kuroo’s teasing words, and the way his mouth curved up as he spoke them.

Kenma blushed into Kuroo’s shoulder. He bit back a smile, and for once the heat that filled him wasn’t from his bending.

“I really like you,” Kenma could fell Kuroo breathing slowly, the rise and fall comforting and reassuring as he chose his neck words carefully. “And, if I could, Kuroo, I would stay like this forever.”

“Anything for my Firelord.”


End file.
